Unbroken
by somandalicious
Summary: Sometimes, in order to truly love someone, you have to let them go, and pray they return to fix the broken. HGDM


It began with nothing more than a whisper. A weighted murmur, loaded with sincere emotion. Simply a trivial statement made in passing, that caused his hand to strike out for her wrist. Instead his long fingers caught the hem of her t-shirt. With a strong jerk of the fisted material, her body stumbled roughly against his. A long arm pressed like steel along her spine, securing her, forcing her back to arch as his head descended with every intent to shut her pretty mouth with a kiss.

He paused and focused on the murky depths of her eyes. It would be wrong to cross the line, to go where he promised he never wanted to. He tried to remember that she was mud; that the despicable sludge was all over and in danger of tainting him while he was holding her within his grasp. Her eyes, a warm muddy greenish color. Her feral hair; a dark glossy filth with hints of sienna. The beige splatters of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose. Dirty. Forbidden. Most importantly though, her blood. Pulsing blue in her veins, making him believe that she was nothing more than a searing hot woman full of desire and passion. A contradiction to the prejudice he could not seem to let go. Like mud, it stuck to his soul, and he loathed it. Yet, there he was, lost in the intrigue, because of something she had inconsequentially said.

Failing to notice the impish grin that crossed her face, he had not anticipated a pliant mouth crushing to his. Her kiss was fierce at first, telling of her hunger, but soon became a savoring of flavors and textures. The world began to exist in a hazy but pleasant confusion, a world that was created entirely of her. Where there were no moral issues to consider. Only her.

_I want her,_ he realized with shattering amazement. His last coherent thought before he let his palm slide the curve of her back. The skin of her hip felt like warm silk, and he gave it an possessive squeeze before raising her shirt over her head. Tossing it aside he could not help but close his mouth over hers again. To claim it. To mark it as his own.

She sighed and leaned into him, while her fingers made quick work of unfastening his trousers, pushing them down, and squeezing his buttocks with her palms. She wanted, no, needed him immediately, and his slow seduction was maddening. Especially with the feel of his thick arousal grinding against her abdomen. Glorious torture, that.  
He stooped, hair falling into his ashy eyes as his lips moved to her breast, and she let a deep moan escape. Her hands flew to his head, tangling in his silky locks, and waves of tingles scored her flesh. She felt control spiral away, and damn it, she just was not close enough to him. It was all she wanted and could not hardly comprehend the urgency of it all. When his warm mouth abandoned her nipple to reek havoc upon her neck, she could still feel it pulsing as if a thousand tongues were painting her canvas. The experience was unlike any other she had encountered…ever.

With a long pull at the string below her naval, the flannel material fluttered past her hips and pooled at her feet. Trying hard to control the swift beat of his heart in the heat of his quickly ignited desire, he stepped away to admire her lithe form. She cried out in objection, the chilly air spreading across her fired skin and emptiness soared painfully into her chest.

Before he could give full appreciation her cool fingers wrapped around his searing erection and pulled languidly. Awesome rapture moved over him, he growled and took her mouth edaciously once more. The blankness fled from her and she was covered with comfort. He yanked her thighs up to encircle his waist, instantly he felt hot stickiness of her yearning soaking through the cotton of her knickers. Groaning wildly with approval, he knew she was ready and she ground her pelvis desperately into his with promise. Without further ado, he hooked his finger inside her pants and pulled the fabric aside. With a slight bend of his knees and a snap of his hips, he was inside the soaking hotness to the hilt. She grunted attractively, clutching forcibly at his shoulders, and swiveled her waist swiftly. The action caused him to sway forward and as one, they crashed against the neighboring wall.

He saw her wince, and forgot about the stone biting into his knuckles. "Are you alright?" He breathed. His palm pushed her hair away from her face and cupped her chin. He was afraid to hurt her, but even more afraid that he cared that he might have. Concern was a foreign concept to him.

She nodded, smiled, and wanted to weep because of his sincere compassion. It was unexpected and she felt the strings of a strong affection begin to weave into her heart. To push those loaded emotions away, she withdrew and twirled her hips forward again. She smirked with satisfaction when his hand slipped to grip her nape, his eyes closed, and his forehead fell against hers.

It was natural, their rhythm. As he supported her with the wall for purchase, she met his thrusts with a swivel of her hips, slow and yet needy. She began to whimper delightfully as his breath quickened into short grunts. His drags began to become unsteady, and her circles became more faltered. But they knew they had found their places. Soon her hand flew to her mouth as she screamed, her body throbbing in shaky waves. Squeezing and pulling at him, milking him deep inside her. His wobbly legs gave out, but he still carefully allowed them both to score the wall until he rested on his haunches.  
Millenniums seem to pass before either regained composure.

"You're mine now, Hermione." Draco rasped into her ear.

"I know." It would never be the same for her again. Their coupling had transcended everything prior, and nothing could ever exceed it.

"Why?" Hermione sniffed. Her eyes followed his movements across the room as he packed to leave with Ron and Charlie for Romania. Summer was over, September had come, it was time for him to go.  
"You're the know-it-all, yeah?" Draco shoved his scattered belongings into his trunk. "Figure it out. Besides I told you in the beginning it would never last." He gulped the lump forming at his throat. He had to be tough, although he wanted their relationship to work out. And it probably would. If he stayed.

She narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Leave. I was growing tired of you anyhow."

He spun to her then, "Don't be hateful, Mia." Because he felt guilty enough without her spitefulness.

"What's it to you! You're the one that says it's better if you leave without commitment! If you really loved me, you would put forth the effort to be loyal." She cried with exasperation.

He settled on the bed beside her, taking a long study of the crumpled blankets, evidence of their torrid affections that morning. "Be logical. We are young. I'll be gone until Christmas. I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to hold you back." He took her chin. "You'll be busy at the Ministry where many handsome and eligible wizards will be passing through. I cannot ask you to put your life on hold while I'm away chasing dragons. Literally." And Merlin, he would want to _Avada Kedavra_ each one of the limey bastards who thought about taking her from him.

She stood and crossed her arms, "Oh, you just think I'll fall for the first sweet talking wizard who walks through the ministry?" She snorted indignantly.

He chuckled. "You fell for me."

She rapidly pivoted, her hair flying wildly, her eyes wide and impish. "Yes, but see I was the one who sweet talked you, and then shagged your brains out against the garden wall!" She knew she was being irrational and immature, but her heart hurt and she did not care.

"Quite right, and completely unexpected thank you!" He too rose and took her in his arms. "How about this, I'll work hard at getting this apprenticeship, earn a lot and accomplish all I can by any means necessary, then I will return to you and give you everything you ever wanted or needed."

She shoved away from him, causing him to stumble. "Feck you Draco Malfoy! Now I hate you! You can promise me the bloody moon and the stars, but you can't promise to be faithful while you're at it! Just get out! Leave and I hope I never see your ferret face again!" Her body was throbbing with hurt and anger. How dare he! And blast, she wanted it to be so. She crumpled to the floor, her face falling into her hands.

Defeat hardened his features. "Fine Hermione." He levitated his trunk and headed for the door. Pausing he glanced back and fought the urge to take her trembling form into his arms. "Goodbye." And with that he disapparated.

The crack from Draco echoed in the deep emptiness of Hermione's heart, she let a noise unlike any other. It was sorrowful and expressed great agony. Indescribable because how does one explain the sound of a soul being ripped apart?

Ginny rushed into the room at the strange cry. She gasped at Hermione's body upon the wooden of the floor. "Oh, darling!"

The younger witch gathered her friend to her in comfort. "Just let it out, scream if you have to." Her fist tightened around her wand as she cast a silencing charm wordlessly.

Hermione did scream, cry and sob into Ginny's proffered reassurance. She could not quite fathom the emotions that were coursing her blood in warp speed. It was like a Dementor was circling her head. She felt wretched, and thought she would never cheerful again, because broken hearts _do_ hurt physically. Albeit a strange pain, unlike any other and is felt everywhere.

"I want him back Gin. I want him to come back right now and undo this hurt he caused when he left." She clutched tightly at Ginny's shirt, and wished it was Draco she was holding.

"I know." Ginny patted her friend, "Why don't you get into bed. This floor is uncomfortable."

"I c-can't." It was a fearful answer, sure, but the bed still smelled of him, Lime and pepper. The sheets were still knotted and twisted from their bodies, and she was not strong enough to lay there and relive the memories. Not yet, anyway.

"Sure you can. Besides, it's time for you to be alone." Ginny extracted herself from Hermione's desperate grip and forced the pitiful girl to stand.

Hermione wiped at her eyes and frowned at the wise young girl. "You, Ginevra Weasley, are an old soul."

"Well, love, Harry left me a lot. I know how the hurt works and what paths it needs to heal." She smiled, but felt like she might cry too.  
Hermione's eyes widened and she took a ragged breath, "But Harry always came back."

Ginny smiled widely. "Yes, because he loves me. And if Draco loves you, he'll come back too."

It burned. Like a hundred heated hatpins stabbing her chest. The bed represented so much. So much joy. There were unspoken promises in the creases, and professions of their hearts in the wrinkles. But she gathered all the bravery she had and curled up on her side of the bed. She reached out and laid a palm on his crooked pillow, the dent where his head laid was still there and she could almost imagine him sleeping. She gave a throaty sob.

"If you need anything…"And Ginny left her unwillingly, because she knew Hermione was in for the hardest weeks of her life. 

Draco was lost in the fire. It had been three weeks since he left her, and all his letters had gone unanswered. He was misplaced and did not know what to do.

"Are you going to floo your mum again?" Ron said as strode up to Draco.

"No."

"Hermione, then?"

Draco considered it, but still answered "No."

Ron's eyes leveled on the blonde. "Do you love her?"

Draco did not answer.

"Then you should floo her."

Draco sneered at Ron, and poked the fire with a stick forcefully. "I will not. I draw the line at seven unanswered letters. If she wants to contact me, then she will. Which she obviously doesn't, so let us drop the subject, eh Weasley?"

Ron seated himself beside Draco and shoved the bread into his mouth. "Did you ask her to come with you?"

"Are you mental?" He scoffed and regarded the freckled fellow besides him.

"Well, it was an option you had. I asked Lavender, but she has a job at the Dizzy, so she refused. However, _I_ didn't tell her that I loved her, wanted to make babies and noodle salad with her, but couldn't keep my prick to myself in the meantime." Ron gave Draco's back a heart slap, and a lopsided grin. "Well, mate, the floos are open for another 45 minutes. So long." And he headed towards the main tent. Draco followed, albeit grudgingly.

"Five minutes Malfoy." Jackson Dafoe, the Head Dragon Keeper said as he handed Draco a handful of powder. "And your knees better not leave the mark."

Draco nodded and threw in the powder. "The Burrow!"

Ginny squealed in surprise as the fireplace flashed green. "Blast! I'll never get used to that! What do you want?"

"Calm down Freckles, where's Hermione?" He looked around the kitchen, but saw only Ginny.

Ginny slowly leaned forward and bit her lip nervously. Finally she decided to stall for time. "Why do you want to know?"

"I have so many answers to that question, I wouldn't even know where to start. However, I am pressed for time, so could you be a sweetheart for once and fetch her for me." He smirked at his sarcasm.

"Oh, sorry, no can do! Better luck next time!" She smiled prettily and batted her lashes at him.

"And why not?"

"She's not here." Ginny raised an eyebrow impishly.

"Okay, Miss Sticks, where is she?" He felt his patience running thin.

"Out."

"Out?"

"Did I stutter, Malfoy? Yes, out."

"And when will she return?" Because if she was to come back soon, he could try again later.

"I don't know. She's on a date."

" A DATE?" He yelled and almost pushed himself through to the Burrow.

"Why must you repeat everything I say? It's quite annoying." Ginny flipped her hair and settled back into her chair and retrieved her copy of the Quibbler. "Yes, a date. With Seamus Finnegan. They've been gone for hours, so I could expect her shortly, but last time she did not return until the wee hours of the morning." She peaked over the corner and reveled as she found Draco's expression quite disappointed.

"You're lying!" He finally shouted.

"Oh please. If you don't like the thought of Finnegan's Irish charm all over her, then do something about it Malfoy!" She tossed the Quibbler onto his face and left the room.

"Who were you talking to?" Hermione asked as she met Ginny on the steps.

"Doesn't matter." She said whilst linking her arm with Hermione's. "Nice to see you out of your room. Want to help me with my hair? Harry is taking me dancing tonight. You should come too." Ginny nudged her playfully, hopefully.

Hermione bit at the inside of her lip with indecision. "No thanks, I think I'll take advantage of having the place alone." She placed a kiss on Ginny's cheek. "I'm going to take a long bath."

It really was not fair. She thought as she sat in the tub, her legs pulled up against her chest, her pink cheek supported by her knees, and her hair hung in a curtain around her shoulders. As she saw it, Draco should be taking her dancing, and it was unfair that he never did. She no longer blamed him, however. She knew it was her fault. She was begging him for an empty promise, and out of integrity, he refused to give it to her. Because he did love her, and he did not want to hurt her in anyway. Sniffing, she rubbed the tears from her eyes and briefly wondered if she would ever stop crying. Of course trying to relax in the bath while listening to the radio had not helped her wrecked emotions. It seemed the DJ felt the need to spin sad ballads about loneliness and heartache. Once again. Unfair. Then again she did not want to hear about happy lovers either. She threw a regretful glance at the smashed stereo across the room, and reminded herself to repair it later.

Repair. To un-break. Could she really do it herself? No. She needed him. She needed him to lean on and to talk to. To just lie beside her and let her know that the world was worth living for. Ginny tried to take his place, bless her heart, but it was not enough. Only Draco could make Hermione complete. Merlin, she just wanted him to come back. That would be fair. Completely and utterly just.

Finally, she rose from the bath and pulled on her dressing gown before curling up in her bed. She tried to read, but no longer had the interest. It did not provide the comfort of knowledge anymore. So she stared out the window, shifting every few moments as to stir up the remaining aroma that was Draco. Soon she fell into slumber and dreamed of better days.

Sizzling, muggy days, that became scorching when his calloused palms would slide the length of her neck and tangle in her curls, to pull her to him as he plundered her mouth. A desperate kiss with measures of emotions whispering along the currents of his tongue. Hermione grasped him tightly by his collar, to keep him there forever, and she wept at the bitter sweetness of his body against hers. There. In her dreams. Where they were still together, as they belonged.

It was almost too real. The needful clutching of her body against his was nearly painful and his ashy eyes were dark and glassy, and when he reached up, his fingers gripped at her cheek roughly. Never in her dreams, was Draco that broken.

"Gods, Mia, why'd you do it?" He croaked sorrowfully. "Did I mean so little to you?"

It was then she realized she was not dreaming. At all. He was really there. Flesh, blood, bone, and love. Deep rapturous love. "You came back." She breathed and tightened her fist that still held his collar securely within. Shifting her weight she brought herself into a sitting position, but was careful never to release him.

"I did." He affirmed gravely and looked from her, his fingers loosening their hold. "Because I had to know why." The muscle at his draw flickered in the moonlight.

Confused, she looked around and blinked, trying to recall exactly what he was referring to. No answer presented itself. "Why what, Draco?"

"I've only been gone less than a month, and you've already moved on. Why?" He suddenly pulled from her.

"I have not!" She admonished, her usual temerity returning.

He spun on her. "Freckles told me so."

Hermione snorted. "She lied." Then she smiled at him. "I'm glad your back, I missed you so." She began to move to him. She needed to touch him. To feel him once more, because it would make up for all those days without him.

"Don't." He put a warning hand up. "I shouldn't have come here." He said aloud, although more to himself than to her.

"Let's not fight. Please." She closed her eyes and felt tears burn at the ducts. "I can't take it."

"We FIGHT, HERMIONE JANE!" He screamed at her, his hands balling tightly arms straight at his side. "It's our thing!" He growled and pushed his hands through his hair. "But we don't have a thing any longer, yeah?" His voice was low, defeated.

"Don't say that!" She sobbed desperately. She would just die if he came to her only to confirm all the foolishness she had felt when she let him leave before.

He peaked up at her and gasped at what he saw. She was clasping the neckline of her dressing gown to keep it closed, her hair was a tangled mess about her shoulders, and her hand was outstretched towards him. But more so he finally saw the deep lavender circles under her eyes, the thinness of her face and the bottomless, spiraling depression darkening her scared eyes. He done this to her. He had left her and it broke her. He realized that she had never moved on and he was a complete bastard for thinking so. He hated himself for what he had done, and he promised himself in that instant, he would rather spend a lifetime fixing her, than ever breaking her again. He swallowed heavily, and began reaching for her books on the shelf above the desk. "Get dressed," and he muttered a charm to light the room.

"Why?" She said, retracting her hand.

"You are going with me." He did not look at her, because if he did, he knew he would take her in his arms and make love to her over and over again. Now was not the time, because Weasley only promised a window of an hour for Draco to sneak to the Burrow to talk to her. Other than that Dafoe would be back, and Draco could lose his apprenticeship.

But Hermione did not move. Instead she pressed her fingers to her lips and began to giggle. This had to be a dream. Because there was no bloody way her prayers could be answered in reality.

He finally looked at her and his eyes were wide. _She must have lost her feckin' mind!_ He thought briefly. "I'm serious, Mia! Get dressed. Now."

She was fully laughing now, hunched over, both arms holding her middle. She waved him off as she straightened. Her subconscious had a really twisted sense of humor. Still trembling with giggles, she climbed back into her bed.

He threw the bundle of robes into the trunk and went for her. "Blast, witch! Stop laughing!" He grasped her forearms and jerked her up. "I am not asking, I am not teasing. I cannot possibly live without you. So you are going to Romania with me and you are going to marry me! Do you understand?" His eyes were staring deep into hers, willing the knowledge to breach her comprehension. "I don't care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming." He said at last.

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my…" Did he really just…? But he could not be asking… Oh, no he was _not_ asking. He was demanding. "You are going to marry me?"

"Well, yeah." His anger had dispelled.

She blinked and shook her head. "Why?" The question tumbled out of her mouth in a whisper.

"Because I'll be damned if Seamus Finnegan or any other tosser touches you again." He said without malice, but full of meaning. Then he began to reckon that she did not want to marry him. "You're still mine, aren't you?" The fear closing in on his vocal cords, making his voice unsteady.

"Naturally. Always." Because she was. Always had been, and always would be. It was only fair.

_fin_

STORY REQUEST:  
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: A little bit of realism but with a happy ending. Ron and Draco getting along.  
What rating would you prefer? R-NC17  
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Too much angst.


End file.
